


In Another Life...

by Asphodelia



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Falcone changed the past, M/M, Oswald finds this confusing, Time Travel, gobblepot, now Oz and Jim are boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-26 01:11:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4984072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asphodelia/pseuds/Asphodelia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Time travel was the stuff of silly sci-fi novels, but Falcone had claimed he could change history and it seemed like he had. How else was it that Oswald could blink and find himself in a serious relationship with Jim Gordon? A Jim Gordon who isn't exactly the do-gooder Oswald has come to know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

The first time Oswald had stood before the machine had been in the parlour of the lavish country retreat Falcone had ‘retired’ to. He had not known what it was then and still did not fully understand it. A device that could alter history? It was ridiculous, the stuff of science fiction. Oswald had laughed when Falcone explained it and thought perhaps the old man’s mind was starting to fade. 

The former don had smiled then and dared Oswald to let him activate it. If nothing happened then he could have himself another laugh at his expense before slitting his throat, as he had come to do in the first place. He had chosen to humour him.

He was not sure yet if it had truly been a mistake, but it had certainly complicated matters. 

There had been a flash of light that had forced him to close his eyes, and when he opened them it was morning. He might have written the bizarre experience off as a dream except that it was obviously not his own bed he was laying in and there was no fog of sleep to cloud his mind to the reality of the whole thing. He was not quite ready to believe Falcone had changed history, but he had clearly done something. Perhaps Oswald had been knocked out, or something had happened to make him lose time. 

Scowling Oswald had sat up and scanned the tasteful, dawn-lit, bedroom for some clue as to where he was. The rather spectacular view out the window confirmed that he was back in Gotham, which made absolutely no sense. Why would Falcone incapacitate him and then plant him in an upscale apartment back in the city, close to all his resources?

Oswald was so intent on puzzling everything out that he didn’t notice the body under the covers next to him until a strong arm wound its way around his waist.

“Alarm won’t go off for another half hour, Oz.” Detective James Gordon had stated sleepily as he propped himself up to glance at the digital clock on the bedside table behind Oswald. He’d then plopped back down to nuzzle against his hip. 

The mobster had been frozen. The gears in his head, which had been turning so franticly just a moment ago, ground to a complete halt. He simply sat, staring down at the bedhead of the gorgeous, shirtless, golden boy who he knew for a fact harboured no warm feelings for him. He had thought once that there was some spark of friendship there, but even if he had not been proven wrong about that by Jim’s willingness to leave him for Maroni he would still never have believed this situation possible. Jim didn’t even share Oswald’s bed in his dreams anymore – he had managed to banish the humiliating fantasy. This could not be happening, except…

James’ lips were soft, wet, and very real as he started trailing lazy kisses just above the waist of Oswald’s pajama pants. He was apparently growing impatient with his stillness. “Lay down damn it. If you’re going to wake me up early then you at least owe me cuddling.”

Oswald remained frozen. 

“At _least_.” He watched as Jim licked from his hip to his naval and planted another kiss there before resting his head on Oswald’s pale stomach. He looked up at the criminal with a little smirk – a strange expression to see on Jim’s face – as he started tugging his pajamas down. “Although I’m starting to think lazy morning sex might be more appropriate.”

Jumping out of bed was not easy for Oswald, given the state of his leg. He managed it, but in his haste he found himself stumping and needing to catch himself on a dresser…a dresser he now noticed housed a framed photograph of him and James. It was taken at the club and they were both smiling, himself smugly, as Jim stood behind him with his chin rested on his shoulder and his arms around Oswald’s chest.

Oswald recoiled from the picture much as he had from the confused man now getting out of the bed. 

“Oz? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know what kind of game this is, but I’m disappointed you would let yourself be dragged into it, detective.” Oswald seethed, his shock and disbelief at the whole situation morphing into anger. 

Jim stopped half way between Oswald and the bed, looking dumbfounded. “What?”

“You don’t – not like _that_ – you don’t want -” His own failure to be articulate added to his rage and if it had been anybody else standing before him he would have jammed the nearest pointed object into his throat. Not Jim, though. Even though Jim was willing to stoop to this weak attempt to play on his feelings. Even though Jim obviously didn’t… “You don’t care about me.” 

Jim’s confusion also eroded into anger at that statement from Oswald and he found himself being backed against the dresser as the police officer advanced on him, his expression not unlike that fateful day at the docks. “How can you fucking say that?”

Their eyes were locked as Jim leaned into him, hands planted on the dresser behind him so he was boxed in. “I don’t know what kind of bullshit nightmare you’re waking up from, but…” James’ expression softened again as he continued staring into Oswald’s eyes, apparently finding something there that calmed him. He sighed. “You know I love you, right?”

James kissed him then, hard. It was deep, passionate, full of meaning – it was everything Oswald had ever longed for and he was overwhelmed. It wasn’t until it was over, until Jim was pressing their foreheads together and smiling fondly at him while asking if he thought they should have pancakes for breakfast, that Oswald remembered that none of it could be real.

He now accepted that Jim believed it, though. What had been done to him to make him believe that the two of them were together and he was in love with ‘The Penguin’… well, that actually wasn’t hard to imagine. It was probably something like what had been done to Butch to make him think his loyalties were to himself and not Fish Mooney. 

Did Falcone have Zsasz reprogram Jim Gordon through torture as some sort of gift? Was Oswald supposed to give control of the city back to him in exchange for keeping him?

Oswald was angry again, but this time he pulled Jim closer instead of recoiling from him. A part of him could not believe the strong willed detective could have been broken like that, but if he had then the things that must have been done to accomplish it must have been nightmarish even compared to Zsasz’s usual standards. 

Slitting Falcone’s throat was out of the question now – he needed to be made to suffer. 

-

Oswald allowed himself to enjoy the peace and domesticity of his morning with James regardless of the terrible methods that might have been used to make it possible. He would avenge Jim’s mind and find a way to restore it, but in the meantime he was not above basking in attention of a man he knew actually found him repulsive. 

After Jim left for work – dressed in a considerably higher-end suit than Oswald had previously seen him in – Oswald started making calls. He needed to know how much time he had lost, how the political situation of Gotham’s underworld might have changed in that time, and most importantly what Falcone was up to and what had been done to James Gordon.

It was revealed very quickly that Falcone was once again the most powerful man in the city, although his inquiries about how long this had been for were met with total confusion. He learnt very quickly not to press that issue. He learnt quickly after that Sal Maroni and Fish Mooney were still alive, and that he owned the nightclub and still worked for Don Falcone. It was as if the events at the warehouse had never happened, his relationship with Jim being the only difference between the current world and the one of a few months prior. 

This was when he started to actually consider that Falcone had changed something in the past, although he didn’t fully believe it until he took a cab to the neighbourhood of Maroni’s restaurant. He managed to sneak a glance at the very alive Don as he was getting into a car. This was a different world, a world where he never became king of Gotham. How could a change in Falcone’s history so alter the success of Oswald’s own plots? It left him feeling rather bitter. And beyond that what had Falcone changed, and did he know Oswald remembered the other reality?

He could already be plotting to have him taken out, either way, now that he had power again and knew what the Penguin was capable of. It was probably a good thing Oswald had gone out to confirm Maroni was alive. He would need to lay low for a while until he could form some kind of false truce with Falcone, perhaps sell him on the idea that Oswald was no longer a threat now that he knew what to watch out for…

He would also need to arrange for protection for his mother, which he did with a phone call to Gabe (loyal in any universe, bless his brawny heart). The idea that she might be used to draw him out of hiding turned his thoughts back to Jim. Surely Falcone wouldn’t have anticipated that a change to his personal past would have resulted in the morally steadfast officer being lover to an up-and-coming mobster, but Falcone was certainly aware of Oswald’s soft spot for the man…Oswald hailed another cab and instructed the driver to take him to the police station.

The Jim whom Oswald knew would not appreciate being visited at work, as he knew from experience. That was probably even truer for the Jim who was trying to keep his affair with a criminal a secret. Oswald was going to drop in on him anyways; he might be in danger. It was time to see whether the man who claimed to love him – he still didn’t really believe that and was refusing to let himself contemplate it – would trust that he had his best interests at heart. 

The police station was almost exactly as it had been before; loud, dingy, full of crooks with badges. There was no sign of Jim, but Detective Bullock was at his desk. 

“Excuse me, detective.” Oswald put on a bright smile and a bright tone. “I was hoping to have a word with your partner.”

“Penguin? What the hell do you think you’re doing here?”

“I have some information that might be of interest to share with your partner.”

Bullock put down the file he’d been holding and stood up, looking down at Oswald in a way that made his fists clench. “Forgetting what almost happened last time you decided to play snitch?”

The Harvey Bullock of the world Oswald was from had indeed been a dirty cop once, but that had changed since he had been partnered with Jim. He had none of Jim’s righteousness, no, but he did the right thing more often than not. He certainly wasn’t in Falcone’s pocket there, but perhaps he was here?

“Oh, no, nothing like that I assure you. It will be of particular interest to your partner, but it’s nothing anybody else need concern themselves with.”

“Yeah, umbrella boy?” Bullock rolled his eyes. “Fine, it’s a slow day, I could use a distraction. Hey Alvarez! There’s a little bird here with something to say to you!”

Alvarez? The detective in question stuck his head out of an open office door looking unamused. He made a dismissive gesture that caused Bullock to laugh. “Guess he doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“No, not Alvarez, I was…mistaken.” Oswald shook his head, confused but supposing it made sense that if major things like who he shared his bed with and who he’d succeeded in killing could have changed then so could have Jim’s partner. 

“Happens to the best of us, and the worst apparently. Bye.”

“I can’t leave without telling -”

“Listen, you can either leave now on your own and put some good thought into whether you really want to talk and who you want to talk to…or I can walk you out, beat whatever it is out of you, and decide myself if it’ll be interesting to anyone besides Alvarez.” 

“Are you threatening my client, detective?” The unmistakable voice of Jim Gordon sounded from behind Oswald, who turned to see him standing there in that suit he’d thought was unusually high end for him. About half the cops in the room were shooting him dirty looks and, unless all of his police-related intel from the other world was wrong, it was the wrong half. It was the decent cops.

Bullock snorted in annoyance. “Gordon. You represent this little creep? Never mind, don’t care, just get him out of here.”

Stunned, Oswald let Jim lead the way out of the police station. The thought of Jim Gordon as anything but a soldier or a cop was just wrong, but the idea of him as a defense attorney of all things was especially stupid. How was helping to keep criminals out of jail cleaning up the city? He must be trying to get justice for those who were abused in police custody, or something like that…except, they seemed to live in a very ritzy apartment. It was not unlike the one Jim had once lived in with Barbara Kean. Oswald made decent money once he obtained the nightclub, but not enough to afford something like that on his own. Clients who were abused in police custody in Gotham were not wealthy or connected enough to pay a lawyer who could afford even half of a home like that. 

“Hey, are you…alright?”

“Hm?” At some point in Oswald’s stunned stupor they had made it to a black BMW which apparently belonged to Jim. 

“You were saying some weird things this morning, and now you’re showing up randomly at the police station?”

“I was looking for you.” There was no reason for Jim to find that unreasonable, since he had found him there.

“How’d you know Bennet was going to get brought in today?” Oswald assumed he was referring to some client who had been arrested. Because Jim Gordon defended criminals in court. “Never mind, stupid question, my boyfriend knows all the illicit gossip. Did you want to get lunch?”

Oswald didn’t normally care for dated notions of right and wrong, but this this was very wrong.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oswald tries to settle in to the new timeline.

“You’ll tell me what’s wrong.” It was not a question or demand so much as a reminder. 

The statement was made about mid-way through their lunch. Oswald knew better than to think Jim would just let his ‘strange’ behaviour that morning go, but the blunt declaration had still caught him off guard. They had been sharing a very pleasant meal – sandwiches on a bench in an urban park – and the mood had been so _nice_. They’d been chatting lightly about a shared suspicion that Bullock wore hats because he thought it made it less obvious that he never brushed his hair. It was wonderful and, for the moment, Oswald had just accepted it for what it was. 

Then Jim had asserted that not only was he sure there was something wrong, but that he was apparently sure Oswald was going to tell him about it. 

“Will I?” 

The correct response would have been ‘I would if there were anything wrong, silly’ combined with some excuse about work being stressful. That would have saved the mood and made Jim more likely to agree to the spur of the moment vacation he was about to suggest they take together, in order to lay low and avoid Falcone while he was still getting his bearings. Jim’s presuming to know him like that triggered all of Oswald’s doubts about their situation, though, and he felt the need to make Jim justify it – to test the boundaries of this relationship he suddenly found himself in.

“You always do.”

“Oh?”

“Really Oz?” Jim smiled at him, amused. “You’re the talker, between the two of us. Hell, you’re a monologuer. Whether you’re ranting or whining or gleefully outlining some scheme you tell me everything. Regardless of if I actually want to hear it. You can’t stop yourself.” 

Oswald had always rather assumed that, if he ever found himself with a lover, he would be secretive. He would probably have to hide his criminal dealings and, even if he didn’t, it wouldn’t do to be spilling all of his secrets. If Jim was to be believed, though, that was exactly what he did. Perhaps Jim wasn’t the only one who was different in this world? Oswald dismissed the thought as soon as it came to him. He might never have imagined himself being totally open with a lover, but he had always longed for openness with James Gordon. Now he found himself seizing a taste of that openness.

“I believe Falcone is quite angry with me and I need to lay low for a while. I would appreciate it if you did too so you can’t be used against me.” He could not tell Jim everything, but he could tell him that much at least. Maybe he had even made similar requests in the past and they had some kind of protocol for this. 

“Falcone can’t use me for shit.” Jim shook his head, like the idea was absurd. 

“And why is that?” Oswald was not impressed with his flippancy. 

“My dad? I know he has other judges in his pocket, but only one with the state’s supreme court.” 

“Ah, right, how silly of me…” If this Jim’s father was alive and well and in such a position then it certainly would be a bridge Falcone would want to avoid burning. That was under ordinary circumstances, though. This was not the Falcone of a year ago or the one this world’s Jim was familiar with, but a Falcone who had the memories of losing his empire and being replaced by a former peon. He may find higher losses acceptable if they helped ensure he would not go through that again. He probably would not target Jim as a first resort, which removed the urgency from the situation, but Oswald would still feel better knowing he was somewhere safe. “Humour me, though? This situation is…unprecedented.” 

“How?”

Having an open dialogue with Jim was nice and he wasn’t going to risk it by telling the truth where the truth involved time travel and alternate universes. He wasn’t naive enough to think that whatever he supposedly had with this Jim would withstand that kind of crazy talk. As he was trying to think of a way to explain things that wasn’t _exactly_ a lie, his cellphone rang. 

“Take it, I’ve got to get back to the office anyways. Do you need a ride, or –“

“I’ll find my own way back, thank you Jim.”

Oswald caught himself just in time to stop from leaning back when Jim gave him a quick kiss goodbye, as he had also done that morning before leaving the apartment. There had also been numerous times that morning and over their lunch where Jim would reach over to touch him, to squeeze his knee or stroke his arm. It seemed that in addition to the openness there was a lot more casual affection in this relationship than he thought a relationship involving him would have. It would take some getting used to. He considered himself a discreet person, not one to participate in public displays of affection…but when they had been walking to the bench James Gordon had wanted to hold his hand, and that had felt wonderful. He could get used to casual affection.

“We’ll talk later!” Oswald called after Jim’s back, promising an explanation he had not yet thought of.

“I’m sure you will!” Was the rather cheeky reply. 

Oswald huffed, annoyed, even as he grinned widely. Hard as it was to believe the other man could love him he was starting to find it impossible to think about that while they were actually together. Distracted, Oswald almost forgot to answer his phone and only just managed to on the last ring. 

“Hello Oswald.” It was Falcone. 

“Don Falcone! To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?” Oswald doubted playing dumb would get him anywhere, but there was certainly a slim chance that Falcone wouldn’t be sure he remembered the other world. 

“Oh, just calling to reminisce about old times. It seems like only yesterday we were in very different positions.”

So much for playing dumb. 

“We were, and I do understand the position I now find myself in: at your mercy.” He hated groveling and had hoped it was something he was done with, but it had proven an effective tactic in the past and he was not about discard it out of some kind of foolish pride. 

“You will of course understand why I might not be feeling very merciful.” Falcone’s tone was mild and conversational. This was a twisted courtesy call; he had already made his choice. It probably only amused him to hear Oswald trying to save himself, but he didn’t have it in him not to. 

“Of course, but I also know you’re a strategist,” Oswald pandered. “I was useful to you before and I can be again. I’m certainly no threat now that you know what to watch for.”

“That’s true of most of my enemies, and it was always your intelligence that made you an asset to me. Why do I need your foresight now that I have the benefit of my own hindsight? ” 

“You need me because I’m good, Don Falcone. I was doing well after you…retired. If I can run this city then imagine what I can do for the territory you’ve already allotted me with the club.” Playing weak wasn’t working so Oswald switched tactics and tried to sell his strength. 

“I’m sure you’ll do a very good job, Oswald, and so for the time being I have decided to use you. And then one day when you think I’ve forgotten, when you think I trust you, you will move against me. And that is when you will die - after your new paramour, of course. How is Jim?”

“Please Don Falcone, I promise –“

“Yes, I know, were you not listening? Consider our past in the past. You will die for betraying me, but it will be for a betrayal that you haven’t committed yet. I _will_ know, Oswald, when you’re ready to try.”

“I – yes, Don Falcone. I mean no, I’m not going to –“ 

“You will. You will get yourself and the man you love killed; it just won’t be today. Have a nice afternoon, Oswald.” Falcone hung up. 

Oswald felt an odd mixture of relief and dread. He believed Falcone when he said he would leave the past in the past and not strike at him until he knew Oswald had betrayed him again. He also knew he was going to betray him again, as Falcone seemed to. He was capable of loyalty – to his mother, and to Jim – but in his career he was driven to get ahead. He could not stop himself from trying to scratch and claw his way to the top and would not want to, especially not now that he’d had a taste of total victory. He also could not help but feel the gravity of the fact that it would be nearly impossible to take a swing at Falcone now without him seeing it coming. Things would be harder this time, and they had not been easy before. And now Jim’s safety was riding on his decisions…

He told himself he would just need to be that much better this time around and pushed the dread aside for the moment. For now he would go to the club, continue gaining his bearings, and focus on business as usual. 

As the afternoon, and then the evening, went on though he found himself distracted. It was not with thoughts of Falcone and their unusual understanding, but with Jim Gordon attorney-at-law. When they were together it was easy to get caught up in how Jim seemed to actually want to be near him, but while he was alone the feeling that things were very wrong came back. The upstanding detective whose whole life revolved around getting dangerous criminals off the streets now spent his days keeping them there…was he even the same person? 

Oswald wanted to believe he was, of course, because of his feelings for the ‘real’ James Gordon. It would explain a lot, though, if this man were only Jim in appearance and name. The Jim Gordon who had honour, who looked down on mere mortals from his pedestal of morality, could never be in love with Oswald Cobblepot. It occurred to him now that sleazy defense attorney Jim Gordon, whose soul had somehow been twisted beyond being recognized as that of the same man, potentially could be. This idea haunted, and it did not help that it had been over twenty-four hours since he had slept. When Jim had woken up that morning Oswald had already been awake for an entire day. 

Last call at the club was not until 2am, but there was no avoiding going home early given his exhaustion. It was around 9pm when he arrived back and the ritzy apartment he shared with his boyfriend, who may or may not have been the same man he had pined for hopelessly for months. 

Jim was on the sofa, watching television. He turned it off when Oswald came in and smiled in greeting, waving for him to come join him. Despite his troubled musings on the man he did just that.

“Thought you might be home early. You usually go back to sleep for a couple hours after I get up.” 

“Yes, well, there was a situation.” 

“You said. And?”

“It passed. Falcone is as offended as I expected he would be, but he recognises that it is in his best interests to keep me around. For now.”

“Then why do you look so…deflated?”

“I’m just tired, Jim.” He certainly must look it. 

Jim might not have fully bought it, but he didn’t question it either. He just sighed and reached over to maneuver the smaller man into his lap. Oswald tensed for a moment, then allowed himself to slump against him as Jim started tracing lines up and down his back. 

“Tell me how we met.” His association with the other Jim Gordon had fairly epic beginnings and Oswald desperately wanted to know what his relationship with this one was based on. 

“You insisted we go to that fancy Italian place and got all indignant when I cut up my spaghetti.” Jim apparently thought he was looking to reminisce about their first romantic encounter, which was reasonable of him, but that wasn’t what Oswald needed right now.

“No, not our first…date…” It felt odd to say. “The first time we met each other. I need to hear your side of it.” 

“That’s a kind of dark thing to be thinking about.” It was clearly not a comfortable topic. Good. Oswald didn’t think he could bear the thought of them having some mundane origin story.

He pulled away enough to look Jim in the eyes, praying he would not question why he needed him to talk about this. At least not tonight. He didn’t, but he pulled Oswald back against his chest and held him tightly for a moment before speaking.

“He wanted me to kill you.” Jim started off, his voice quiet. The rest of the story was spoken in an equally soft tone, directly into Oswald’s ear, with Oswald occasionally prompting him to explain the background of certain sections. Jim must have found this odd, must have been itching to throw away the uncomfortable subject and ask why Oswald needed him to go into detail about things he should already know…but he didn’t. He seemed to just take for granted that Oswald had his reasons, and based on their conversation earlier in the day he probably expected those reasons would be explained to him soon enough. “Falcone was grooming me to replace my dad, and that was how I was supposed to prove my loyalty.”

“Why did he think you’d do it?”

The story of their initial encounters had parallels to the way they had met in the Oswald’s reality, although the road Jim had taken to get there had been different. With prompting, Jim told him enough background details to piece together the full story.

Falcone had been in Jim’s life for a long time here. When he was young – the age where Oswald knew his father was supposed to die in a car accident – Falcone had been introduced as a friend of his father. He had endeavored to become Jim’s friend too.

Jim was a teenager when he realized exactly what Falcone’s relationship was to his father. He had previously looked up to both of them, thought of them as great men and pillars of the community. The benevolent businessman and the upstanding DA – all lies. He had started resenting them both after that, but especially his father. It was the hypocrisy that he really couldn’t stand.

He had gone into the army after graduation and had attended a military university. He needed to escape, and he also needed a new source of order in his life. Through this period his father – on the rare occasion they saw each other – tried to talk to him about law school. He wasn’t interested. Then, when he left service, Falcone contacted him and said he was already enrolled and it was already paid for. It would have been satisfying, in the short term, to have let him just waste his money but the fact was that he had no idea what he wanted to do after he left the army. He confessed – only because Oswald specifically asked – that he had briefly considered going into law enforcement because he had transferable skills. He had never been serious about the idea though because he knew being a cop in Gotham must be a lot like being DA – a total sham. He could already guess that working at the DA’s office in Gotham was what he was _supposed_ to do in the eyes of Falcone and his father, but he had never considered actually becoming one of the many government employees in the mafia’s pocket. It was clear from the way he spoke that the whole idea still disgusted Jim. There was some of that familiar righteousness in him after all…

Almost immediately after Jim arrived back in Gotham after law school they had been introduced, and Jim had been told to shoot him in the head. There was no pier, no river to push him into…Just a small, dingy, room with only one exit. Falcone’s muscle had forced Oswald to his knees as the don himself had put a gun in Jim’s hands and explained Oswald’s status as a snitch. He was to kill him and prove his loyalty. Jim had flat out refused, at first, and when Falcone pushed he had shot the muscle instead and told Oswald to run.

Oswald had mixed feelings about Jim’s killing Falcone’s nameless underling (it gave him a bit of a thrill knowing Jim had done that for him and he certainly didn’t care about it, but Jim _should_ ), but his doing something so reckless just to prove Falcone didn’t own him was very true to the Jim he knew from before. 

When they met again Oswald had established new footing in the world of organized crime, and Jim had joined a very expensive law firm as a defense attorney. 

“I understand your aversion to the DA’s office, but why defense?” 

“Working with the DA’s office, corporate law, defense – in Gotham, they all amount to keeping criminals out of jail. Defense is just the only way to be honest about it.” 

“Still honourable, then. Still you…” Oswald smiled sleepily into Jim’s shoulder and pretended he was already asleep when Jim asked him to explain the comment. He was going to owe Jim an explanation for more than just that soon, but not tonight. Tonight he was exhausted, and comfortable, and content in the knowledge that the Jim who was letting him nap on him was fundamentally the same person he had been in his original world. He might not sparkle with moral purity anymore, but he had found a different way to have integrity. He was still a good man.

Oswald’s false nap became a real slumber soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, 'two or three' parts turned into a definite four once I actually wrote out my outline...
> 
> Jim is being waaay too patient, I know. That'll change.


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oswald finds himself dissatisfied with all aspects of his new life.

Oswald slept peacefully and awoke slowly in the same bed he had been quick to jump out of the morning before. Jim wasn’t beside him this time, but the pillow on the other side of the bed smelt like him and Oswald found himself burying his face in it while the last of the drowsiness faded. Once he was feeling fully awake he realized he was still wearing parts of his outfit from the day before, which was not actually very comfortable. He got up and changed into a robe, intending to get properly dressed after having some coffee and breakfast.

Jim was in the kitchen, and had already made the coffee. It was all a bit dreamlike. Oswald had spent the day before accepting affection from Jim, but not trusting the situation enough to initiate any himself. Now, he greeted him with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. What a lovely way to start the day…

Things went downhill from there. 

“Okay, so…yesterday. What was that?” Jim was not angry; he was in fact pouring Oswald a cup of coffee. His tone had a note of warning in it, though. He wanted to know what was going on and he was not going to be blown off.

“Yes, I suppose that must have seemed like an odd conversation and I do apologize.”

“The conversation was weird, yeah, but that’s just the beginning of it.” 

“My behaviour has been strange, I know. I have just had a rather major professional setback and it left me somewhat rattled. I’m sorry for bringing that home to you, but I think I’m going to be able to work past it now. Things will go back to normal.”

“You’re still doing it.”

“Doing what?”

“That faux-polite thing you do with almost everyone else.”

“I am not _faux_ -polite.”

Jim gave him a look like he was trying very hard not to roll his eyes. 

“…I was planning to betray Falcone.” Oswald started crafting his half-truth. Jim did not react at all, which led him to think the Oswald Cobblepot of this world had in fact been planning such a thing and had told him as much. “He found out. I thought he’d have my head for it, but he seems very confident I won’t be able to put any new plans in motion without his finding out again. He says he’ll kill both of us next time.”

“Okay, and?”

Oswald had been hoping that his betrayal of Falcone, and the lingering threat of what would happen if he tried it again, would be sensational enough to hold Jim’s focus. He could easily spin a story about how the betrayal had happened – he had enough unused plans. Jim might express concern over whether he would try again, maybe even want to argue about it, but it would be a disagreement Oswald felt confident in navigating. As much as he liked the idea of openness with Jim this was going to have to be an exception. 

Not only was Jim not distracted, though, but he did not even seem to find those topics interesting. It seemed that, to Jim, this was just typical behavior for himself and Falcone…which it was, in a way. And Oswald supposed he should know better than to think Jim would be distracted by threats to his own safety. It was always only begrudgingly, secondarily, considered by the other Jim. 

“I needed to hear that story because I’ve been trying to puzzle out how Falcone’s mind works and –“

“No.” Jim was starting to look fed up. “I buy that you’re angry about your plan not working out, but this has nothing to do with that. It’s about us, or me.”

“I assure you it is not –“

“You did not make me tell a story we both lived, that you know I hate re-living, to help you figure out Falcone. The being surprized every time I touched you thing? That I could buy was because work had you distracted, if you didn’t also jump out of bed and accuse me of not caring about you.”

Jim’s voice had been raised, but now he was silent and still. He was angry, but he was ready to listen. He wanted to hear him out; his entire attention was focused on Oswald. He was going to be disappointed. 

Oswald wished he had something to tell him, but Jim was convinced this was about their relationship and Oswald knew next to nothing about said relationship. He couldn’t make anything up without potentially opening old wounds he wasn’t aware of or drudging something up they were supposed to have moved passed. Why couldn’t he just let it go? It was one day, and Oswald was positive he could learn his own ‘normal’ behaviour in this world quickly. If Jim would just let it slide for twenty-four hours things would be normal again in his eyes and it would seem like he was making a big deal of nothing. 

“Why don’t you tell me what you think this is about, James?” Oswald spat as he became irritated. 

“Because I have no idea.” 

“Then there’s nothing relating to ‘us’ you’re even worried about. I act slightly off for one day and you interrogate me over it!?”

“Christ Oswald, I didn’t think you’d make such a big deal about me asking!”

“I guess you don’t know me as well as you seem to think, then. My entire life is not your business!” 

“But mine is yours!?” Probably a reference to all the personal details he had asked for during their conversation the previous night.

“Just let it go.” He tried to inject his tone with as much finality as possible, knowing even as he did that it was not a good play. He had not been prepared for this discussion, which irked him greatly. 

“I guess you don’t know me very well either.” Jim shot Oswald a parting glare before leaving the kitchen, and then the apartment if the slamming door was a reliable indicator. 

Oswald did know Jim, though. He knew that if something didn’t smell right to him he wasn’t going to put it out of his mind. He was going to obsess, and grow restless, and find a way to look into it himself. He was going to do something stupid.

Oswald spent the day at the club, but his mind never truly moved passed that morning’s argument. He braced himself for some kind of fallout, expecting Jim to come storming in any moment thinking he’d figured out what was going on. It didn’t happen. He also devoted a lot of mental energy to crafting a story about how he had been having some irrational doubts about them as a couple which he had now discarded. He would blame something Falcone had said on triggering it, and add in a nightmare and the work-related stress he had already established. It all ended up being unnecessary, which was oddly disappointing.

When he arrived home that night, around 2:30am, Jim was in bed asleep. Oswald waited for a second confrontation the following morning, but it did not come then. Or that evening, or the following day. Jim did not ignore him or behave exceptionally cold either, although he did stop all of the casual touching he had initiated on Oswald’s first day in the new timeline. It seemed like he had actually decided to let it all go. This was exactly what Oswald had wanted, but it still bothered him. 

Still, it meant his mind was free to focus on re-climbing the ranks of Gotham’s underworld. He decided very quickly that there was no way for him to make any direct move against Falcone, or even to capitalize on general chaos. Falcone knew that he thrived in situations where everybody else was scrambling and would have him taken care of as soon as things started to go south. One of Falcone’s other enemies would have to take him out, and it would have to come out of nowhere. 

He decided that his weapon against Falcone would be Maroni, simply because he was the most obvious. Creativity had become a luxury Oswald could not afford because any threats Falcone was not already suspecting would probably be assumed to be his doing if they were uncovered. Maroni was expected, though, and so if a plot involving him were uncovered there would be little rational reason to assume Oswald had anything to do with it. 

However, there could be no war between the mafias in this world. Things could not start to look as they had in the other timeline or Falcone would become suspicious. It needed to be sudden – an assassination – and Maroni would never do something so subtle without a lot of convincing which Oswald was in no position to supply. He was a master of manipulation, but he was at a loss for how to make use of that skillset in his current situation. If word got back to Falcone about him having any unusual contact with people he could perceive as threats he might just decide it was better to be safe than sorry. 

He ended up just having to wait for a while. Weeks went by and Oswald became more and more uncomfortable in the new timeline. He was a king who had been reduced to a pawn, through no fault of his own. After the wonder associated with time travel wore off it just felt like cheating. Falcone had robbed him and there was nothing he could do but wait for an opportunity to arise. He lived life in a state of near-perpetual irritation.

Going home to Jim every day was not helping his mood. He was neither giving Oswald the cold shoulder nor acting the affectionate boyfriend as he had that first day…most of the time. He was generally pleasant (which was annoying and wrong), occasionally sour, and rarely amorous. A pattern developed where it seemed like they were just friends who lived together, for a few days. Then, after they had had a nice conversation or shared a joke, Jim would try for more and Oswald would pull away. Jim would be bitter for a day or so, and then the cycle would continue. 

They were a boring domestic couple who liked each other without passion, never had sex, and never truly fought. It was the last thing Oswald had ever imagined himself having with Jim Gordon and he hated it, when he even bothered taking time to consider it. The worst part was that Oswald knew he could fix it all easily. He knew with certainty that if went to Jim and confided in him, kissed him, led him to their bed… Things would return to how they had been before, in the mind of this version of James Gordon. Oswald had no fear of being rejected by a man who didn’t leave him despite their relationship having devolved into something that looked more like roommates than lovers. It would be so easy to make everything better, but he couldn’t make himself do it. Maybe he just wasn’t ready yet, or maybe it would just be _too_ easy. Maybe it was because it had never started feeling real. It didn’t matter. 

The novelty of having the man who had hated him suddenly care for him had worn off. He was still in love with Jim, still felt that little flutter in his chest when the blond entered a room, but the feeling had gone stale. He was not feeling heartache, as he had when he realized the extent of Jim’s disgust with him. It did not hurt, or feel good except for in scattered moments. It was simply a fact of his existence, which was frustrating in itself. He wanted to _want_ Jim again, or to resent him, or to at least take more than modest pleasure in his company and he just couldn’t. It was a disgustingly stagnant love that Oswald wanted no part of. He was thinking about ending things.

That he did not was more to do with his work life than his home life. An opportunity arose to have Maroni kill Falcone, or at least for him to seem to. The two of them had been butting heads lately, but had seemingly resolved their issues. The truce was to be formalized at a dinner at Maroni’s restaurant. 

Oswald disliked the idea of being a poisoner (not enough to refrain from it - he'd done it before). It was not that he considered it cowardly, he just didn’t see it as a satisfying means of ending a life. Having somebody do your dirty work was satisfying because it let you feel your own power, and spilling blood yourself could be life affirming. Poison was just so…indirect. Unfortunately, Oswald had no choice but to go for something unpredictably predictable. 

The poison would not be in the food, or the wine, provided by the restaurant. The whole thing would fall apart if Maroni ended up poisoned first somehow. Falcone would be poisoned earlier in the day through contact with the bottle of wine he intended to bring himself and only seem to be poisoned at the restaurant because of the timing of when the poison kicked in. If he survived, which was possible if he did not handle the bottle as much as he needed to, then he would think Maroni had poisoned him at dinner. Perhaps there would be a conflict at the restaurant which would still end with Falcone dead. 

The plan was far from perfect, but Oswald found that he did not have the patience to wait for an opportunity to attempt a plan that was. Perhaps he should have. 

“Oswald. We don’t seem to talk very much lately and it is a source of great sadness to me. Why don’t you join me for dinner with Maroni tonight?” Falcone’s voice over the phone held no hint of a threat, but Oswald didn’t need to hear it to know it was there. 

How could he have known? Did he even know, or was he guessing? It might be neither. Falcone could simply be reminding Oswald that he was watching him, calling him on an occasion he thought he might find it tempting to try something in order to make him hyper-aware of the scrutiny. If the invitation was just a general reminder then Oswald could take it and be there to watch the old man die. Aside from him Falcone would probably only bring some muscle, which meant he would default to a leadership position in the room. Then, if Falcone’s – Oswald’s – men could take out Maroni…

But if Falcone somehow knew then Oswald was dead. Jim too. Oswald had confided in _nobody_ besides the minor, unaffiliated, thief he was paying to swap out the wine bottle and that thief had not even been told the name of the target yet. There was nobody who could have sold him out. If Falcone knew he must just be guessing, but if he did… Dinner was that evening, and it was still mid-morning. In order to kill Jim first, like he had promised, Falcone would probably have him abducted soon if he hadn’t already.

The odds were in Oswald’s favor, but he still couldn’t take them when it was Jim on the line. He may not have any attachment to their life together or feel any ownership of their relationship, but Jim was still Jim. Even when he wasn’t. 

After Falcone said his goodbyes Oswald immediately called Jim.

“We’re leaving town for a while. Meet me by the bridge.” He hung up without waiting for a response. 

Running was going to make him look guilty. If Falcone didn’t know now that there was a plot he would when Oswald didn’t show up. It would be difficult to return to Gotham if he left now, and nearly impossible to rejoin the underworld if he did…

There was only one thing to be done. Falcone had cheated, so Oswald would cheat right back. He would change history, and he would go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if I like this chapter, but it might just be that I don't like what's going on with Oswald and Jim...which is the whole point.


	4. Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oswald goes after the time machine.

Jim’s black BMW was already parked in the dirt lot overlooking the bridge when Gabe pulled Oswald’s own car up. The man himself was leaning on the side of his vehicle, arms crossed. Gabe got out and opened the rear door so that Jim might get in, but he didn’t move. 

Oswald sighed, exasperated. He did not have time for this. He got out of the car, slamming the door behind him. Jim was unaffected. 

“I’m not running away.” He stated it as a fact more than an argument. 

“It’s only for a few days, until all this blows over.”

“All this?”

“You’ll only be a few hours out of town, and tomorrow’s Saturday so you won’t even miss work.”

“Wait, so you aren’t even coming?”

“I…was. Another thought has occurred to me.” 

“You’ve pissed off somebody powerful, probably Falcone, badly enough that you want me to go into hiding, but you think that if you stay in town you’ll have it all fixed by Monday?”

“It’s just a weekend in the suburbs with my mother. I don’t ask much of you.”

“You just asked me to spend two days alone with your mother! She addressed our Christmas card to ‘my beloved son and that vile seducer who has entrapped him’.”

Oswald was vaguely aware of Gabe getting back in the car at this point, probably feeling rather awkward.

“I don’t have time to explain everything to you, I just need you to do as I ask. Don’t you trust me?”

 

“I do. That doesn’t mean I don’t think for myself.” 

“Really Jim?” They had both been standing by their own vehicles, but Oswald advanced on Jim now until he was staring him straight in the face. “Because for the last month you’ve asked no questions. You’ve accepted what I’ve told you and kept your nose out of my business. You’ve picked a terrible time to decide you want to make informed decisions, Jim, I must say.” 

Jim glared for a moment, then shoved his way past Oswald and stalked a few paces away. “I’ve always known you had secrets, Oswald. Sides of yourself you don’t want me to see. I know you’ve done things you don’t want me to know the specifics of. I accepted that about you. For the most part, though, I haven’t had to ask. You tell me what’s on your mind, and you’re…I didn’t even think I was closed off until I had you to talk to. And I didn’t realize how much that meant until it was gone.” 

“I’m sorry Jim, I just…” There was nothing to say, really. Oswald couldn’t think of having hurt any version of Jim and not be sorry, but he wasn’t actually sorry for any specific action he had taken. “We really don’t have time for this.” 

“Christ, you know sometimes I actually imagine that _you’re_ gone?” Jim ran a hand through his hair before turning back to Oswald and approaching him again. He reached out to grasp his shoulders and squeeze, as if to confirm that Oswald was in fact standing right in front of him. “I miss you. It’s like you disappeared without going anywhere, replaced by some other you who’s exactly the same except when it comes to me.” 

Oswald heart ached and he wished he could fix things for Jim so badly that he almost missed the oddity of that statement. “Where did you get that idea?”

“What?”

“You don’t articulate your emotions well enough to come up with that out of nowhere.” Oswald spoke with urgency. It was true – Attorney James Gordon was every bit as poetic as Detective James Gordon. “Where did you get the idea that I had been replaced?”

“…Falcone. I went to him, when you first started acting weird. After our fight. You kept trying to use whatever had happened with him as an out and I needed to look into it.”

“You went to see Falcone?” Why had Oswald been disappointed when it looked like Jim hadn’t done anything stupid?

“I know better than to trust him, but I’ve also known him since I was a kid. I wanted to see if maybe he’d been putting weird ideas in your head about me. He’s good at stuff like that.” 

“And he told you I was what, a doppelgänger?”

“Sort of? He said you had been replaced by a different you from an alternate universe. He said he knew I wouldn’t believe him, but he felt he owed it to my father to let me know I had no reason to stay loyal to you, since you’re not really you, and that if I left you he wouldn’t end up having to kill me some day. It was a pretty big pile of bull, even for…Oh god.” 

Oswald’s face must have given him away.

“No, that’s…no.”

“…Yes.” 

Jim walked away again, towards the fence overlooking the river and bridge. He stayed there for a while, and Oswald let him have his space. When he came back he told him everything about the time machine and what Falcone had done.

“So then, what happened to my…You were standing near a time machine so my Oz was just _erased_!?” Jim looked like he wanted to scream and seeing the emotion on his face made Oswald aware that he did too, and had for a long time.

“More like ‘overwritten’, I –“ Oswald was about to explain his own theories on the matter, because of course he had thought of it. He thought that this must physically be the body that had lived a life in this world, based on how he’d been wearing the other Oswald’s bedclothes when he arrived. He didn’t think explaining his theory would make Jim feel any better, though. “I’m going to fix this. Falcone might still have his time machine. Trying to steal it seemed like too risky a play before, but now…”

“Now it’s do or die. And you were really going to send me to your mom’s house?”

“If I succeed this all disappears.”

“Maybe. Or maybe you go back where you came from and I get _my_ you back.”

So it was settled. It was still only the afternoon – too early to go to Falcone’s – so they actually did end up heading an hour or so out of the downtown area go get a late lunch. In a perfect world Oswald would have headed in to the club for weapons, and potentially backup if anybody he knew to be disloyal to Falcone were around. It was too risky, though. So, instead, they got obscenely greasy fish and chips from a stand and ate it in the back of Oswald’s car.

“So, I have to ask…what am I like there, in your world?”

“You’re a police man.”

“Really?” Jim blinked.

“Yes. Quite proud of it, too.” 

“Huh.” He apparently found that to be quite the novelty. 

“You started cutting corners, coming to me for help, but you really do want to clean up the city.” Oswald found himself smiling. The thought of going home to _his_ Jim made him feel light, in spite of the sting of knowing that Jim hated him and would probably rather see him dead than chat in the back of his car. “You were demoted when I left – stuck directing traffic. I keep hoping you’ll come to me to fix it, I already have a plan.” 

“It’s not that he’s morally superior to me, then.”

“Sorry?”

“Why you kept brushing me off. It’s not because you want the ‘good’ guy – you talk like you want to corrupt him, at least a little.” 

“I don’t know if I’d say that, but you are awfully blind to how to navigate life in Gotham…”

“It’s a good thing you’re watching out for me, then. So, why aren’t we together?”

Oswald let out a bitter laugh. “We should head towards Falcone’s.”

After night had fallen they had Gabe drop them off outside the grounds of Falcone’s estate and walked the rest of the way. There was no guarantee that Falcone was keeping the machine at his house, or that it would even still work, but this was Oswald’s only possible way forward.

Sneaking by the posted sentries wasn’t that difficult. There were only two men and they weren’t being very vigilant – who would dare try to rob Don Carmine Falcone? Oswald could be very sneaky for a man with a limp, and Jim wasn’t a cop in this world but he had still been a soldier. They got up to the back door without incident, but…

“Victor will be inside. Falcone will have taken a few of his best men tonight, but Victor Zsasz isn’t somebody you take along to establish a truce. There’s probably an alarm too.” Oswald assessed.

“Can we get in without tripping it?”

“We could knock out the power, but he probably has a backup generator.” 

“I guess we’re just going in, then.”

Oswald picked the lock and they snuck inside. There was no alarm they could hear, but he was certain a silent one had been tripped. Wherever Zsasz, and whatever support he had, was he probably knew they were inside. It was a big house so their best bet was going to be to be fast and quiet, to cover ground fast. The agreed before going in that they would try to start in the wine cellar – basements being the classic place to hide things – and work their way up. Getting to the basement meant getting through the parlour, though, and of course that’s where Zsasz was. 

There was a split second where Oswald thought they’d seen him first and had a chance to hide, but Zsasz apparently had very good night vision. Bullets ripped through the drywall of the corner they ducked behind, and Oswald was actually a bit surprised that gunfire had been his first move. Falcone was the type who liked to avoid things like bullet holes in his walls, and there was a lot more to Zsasz’s skillset than marksmanship. Falcone must have instructed told him to do things as quickly and definitively as possible if he showed up. 

They ran back towards the kitchen to find one of the two women who often accompanied Zsasz already using the island counter as cover to fire at them from. Jim, using the gun he’d borrowed from Gabe, managed to get either a perfectly aimed or amazingly lucky shot in as they tried to run past and the female muscle fell backwards with a thump. They had just enough time to duck behind the island themselves before Zsasz was in the room, raining down a storm of bullets from an automatic weapon. 

“Stop hiding! I’m supposed to try not to break things!”

Victor dodged out the other door to the kitchen as Jim returned fire and Oswald recognized that they were pinned down. He didn’t have a gun himself – just his knife – and Zsasz had at least one more person coming to back him up. They had to move while it was still two on one or they’d be doomed as soon as Jim ran out of ammo. 

Victor wasn’t standing all that far from Oswald’s end of the counter…

“Cover me.” Was all the warning Oswald gave before making a mad leap, staying on level with Zsasz’s knees. His intent was to stab Zsasz and knock the weapon from his hands, stealing it. He was only partially successful. He felt a sharp pain in his shoulder – and heard Jim behind him returning fire on Zsasz – as his blade dug in to the flesh around Zsasz’s ankle. He left it there and kept on moving without risking a stop to grab the fallen gun. He found himself collapsing onto a staircase as he rounded the corner behind Zsasz. 

He wasn’t laying there long before Jim ran up behind him and tugged him up by the back of his jacket, pushing for him to continue upwards. “Move! He’s still coming. I put my last two bullets in him, but he’s still coming.” 

Oswald hazarded a glance backwards as he stumbled up the staircase and saw that there was, indeed, an eerie bald man at the bottom of the stairs. He was leaning heavily on the bannister, bleeding from his arm and torso, and clutching a knife he’d pulled out of his own leg…but he was still coming. 

Jim shoved him into one of the rooms along the hall, probably hoping to find something to use as a weapon once Zsasz reached them. Oswald attempted to inspect his own shoulder wound while Jim slammed the door and shoved a chair up under the handle. The bullet had cut him rather badly, but it had technically only grazed him. There was a huge gash at the top of his arm where the bullet had half-dug into it, but there was no hole through him with a projectile stuck in it.

“My my, it’s turning out to be an exciting evening. I don’t see many of those these days.” 

The guest bedroom was more lavish than the master suite in most homes, it even had its own fireplace which was currently alive with flames. In a plush chair by that fireplace, with a pistol aimed at Oswald, sat Carmine Falcone. 

There was a long chain attached to his leg which was affixed to a steel bar on the ceiling. 

“You stood up Maroni for me. I’m honoured.” Oswald said with obviously false sincerity as he tried to puzzle out the bizarre sight before him.

“No, I’m with Maroni right now. I’m probably killing Maroni right now, in fact.” 

Oswald’s eyes widened as the realization hit him. Falcone explained anyways.

“Years ago I was visited by myself from the future, and he gave me a lot of advice – instructions, really – for how I should move forward. Much of it has served me very well. Having Gordon’s son kill the man who snitches on Mooney always struck me as odd, but I suspect now that it was just for personal satisfaction.”

“After our long chat my other self left me to live my life. And then, about a month ago, he came back and stole it. I think he expected he would just overwrite me the way you did this world’s Oswald Cobblepot, but he didn’t. He arrived here via the machine, and I was already here.”

“You’re his prisoner?”

“I’m a trusted advisor, a ‘co-monarch’ even. I’m treated very well.”

There was a sudden crash as the door burst open, the chair that should have held it shut flying half-way across the room. Zsasz was dead before he could make use of the element of surprize – Falcone had shot him down.

“But yes, I am a prisoner.” 

Oswald looked to Jim, who looked back at him with an expression that was best described as ‘weirded out’. 

“The machine is in my –the other me’s – bedroom in a safe behind a picture of my mother. The combination is 14-06-15.”

“Why would he tell you that? What if you escaped and –“

“And went back in time to stop him replacing me only to wind up in a situation where there are three of me around, and two time machines?”

“Point.”

“It’s up to you to fix reality, Oswald. Undo this twisted -” 

Falcone might have had more to say about destiny and how it was being the pampered prisoner of your alternate self, but Oswald wasn’t really interested. He took his knife back from Zsasz before stepping over the body and leaving the room with Jim close behind. 

“I’m not even going to try to process what we just saw.” Jim said as they entered the master bedroom.

“It won’t matter soon, anyways.” Oswald wasted no time in taking down the portrait of Falcone’s mother and unlocking the hidden safe.

It was not long before he had the machine in his hands. It was black and cylindrical, with turntable handles on either end. There was a setting for the date they had come to this world, and also a date for years earlier which Oswald was betting was the time Falcone had initially traveled back to.

“Am I happy?” Came the unexpected question from Jim.

“I don’t know. Are you?” Oswald was too focused on the machine to give the question much consideration. His mind was full of his own (oh how he wished) Jim right now.

“I mean there. I want for this to just send you home and send my Oz back, but in case I’m about to be ‘overwritten’…am I happy, there?”

Oswald stopped studying the machine for a moment and turned to face him. “…No. I don’t believe you are.”

“We’re happy here, you know. Or we were. You’re moving on up in your field. I don’t pretend to feel great about my job, but I like that I’m good at it. And I come home to a place that feels like home that I share with a man who means everything to me. I’m not changing my mind about this, I’ll trade anything for a chance to get Oz back, but I just…like my life.” 

Oswald didn’t know what to say to that and Jim didn’t seem to expect he’d say anything. He let him work in silence then, as he fiddled around with setting a new destination date based on the old starting point. He was done that and working out the significance of the departure time – was that how you activated it? – when Jim spoke up once more, this time from right in front of Oswald.

“You never told me why we aren’t together there.”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“No. You clearly want us to be.” 

“You don’t. I’m a criminal scumbag and you’d love to get me off the streets.” 

“I’m sure I would.” 

Was Jim trying to flirt? That wasn’t funny. And he was bad at it.

“I disgust you. You wouldn’t care if I died. End of story.” 

“No.” When Jim kissed him it was not deep and passionate like that first morning in the bedroom – he was not the Oswald this Jim wanted like that. It was ultimately chaste, but still firm. It was a promise. “Maybe he has more objections to the idea than I do, but that doesn’t mean the idea isn’t there. You’re important to him, you have to be.” 

“Why?” Oswald barely heard himself ask, his voice was so quiet.

“Because if I’m about to wake up _different_ then I have to believe there’s something waiting for me in that world besides struggling to be a ‘good’ cop. But mostly because there could never be a me that isn’t drawn to you. Don’t give up on me.” 

“…I won’t.” 

There was the sound of feet stomping up the staircase and Jim pulled back. “I guess that’s my cue.”

Jim went to face Zsasz’s second accomplice, and Oswald was gone moments after he left the room. He arrived in Falcone’s past, in a master bedroom with exactly the same layout but different carpeting and linens. Another major difference was the presence of a younger Falcone sleeping in the bed…Oswald was careful to be quiet as he left the room. 

He didn’t end up needing to travel all the way to the country estate to find the Falcone from his own time since he was rather eager to visit himself. He caught him by surprize at the front door and slit his throat as he had originally planned to do. Falcone’s body (and time machine) he brought back with him to his own time – about half an hour after he initially left, of course, so as not to end up competing with himself to be king of Gotham.

Butch was contacted instead of Gabe – he had never acquired him in the alternate world and found that he missed him. The two of them disposed of Falcone’s body in Gotham River and saw to the destruction of the time machines. Then The Penguin returned to his throne. 

His experience in the other world had largely been a disaster, but it had given him a lot to think about. Extended time as a mid-level gangster had given him further insight into some of the personalities that now worked beneath him, for example. Mostly, though, there was Jim. He missed him terribly and wanted to go see him right away, although of course he didn’t. He wasn’t sure he could trust the romantic claims of the other Jim – he didn’t know the whole situation. He did seem to know himself, though, and despite his better judgement Oswald couldn’t help thinking ‘maybe’. 

Hope had been ignited in his heart once more and Oswald began to dream. Maybe Jim could love him, someday. Maybe someday Jim would even know himself well enough to see it. What kind of life might they build together? Maybe it would look like a cozy uptown apartment with a view of the city, or maybe it would be all secret meetings and rare getaways.

Maybe the other Jim was completely wrong and this Jim really did just hate him. But Oswald knew what he tasted like now, knew what his heat felt like next to him in bed, knew the look in his eyes when he was fighting for them….It had happened, somewhere. Why not here? Maybe…

Oswald could only wait about a week before he let himself go to him. Jim was in the middle of the road testing his patience against an army of angry commuters. Oswald had planned to just catch a glimpse of him, but ended up bringing him coffee.

Now that he’d seen what they could be he owed it to both of them to keep trying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's it. I had initially planned to continue more into when Oswald got back, but it felt out of place in the story once I started writing it.
> 
> I may still do a final edit tomorrow. My sleep-deprived eyes are not seeing anything I want to change, but my well-rested eyes might. 
> 
> Let me know what you think =)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic in about five years, hope I'm not too rusty! This is going to be a two, maaaybe three, part thing. Let me know if you're liking it so far!


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